


This Thing is Gonna Kill You

by cazzy



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Harry Potter AU, Humor, M/M, auror!rey, everyone keeps getting hurt and ending up at st mungo's, minister of magic!leia, unspeakable!kylo ren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 11:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6049186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cazzy/pseuds/cazzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's bleeding out all over some Unspeakable who sounds absolutely livid as he growls threateningly about procedure violations and the brash, idiotic behaviors of hotheaded Aurors. It's all right and good because her coworkers are generally so incompetent that they undoubtedly deserve the verbal abuse, except Rey is pretty sure she's going to die if she doesn't make it to St. Mungo's in the very near future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Thing is Gonna Kill You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ughwhyben (hakuen)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hakuen/gifts).



> HARRY POTTER ALTERNATE UNIVERSE
> 
> I have way too many ideas for this universe than could possibly be considered healthy. SOMEDAY I WILL WRITE CANON FIC AGAIN BUT THIS IS NOT THAT DAY.
> 
> (This is a guilty pleasure fic dedicated to the best person ever, aka [Em](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hakuen/pseuds/ughwhyben)!)

She's bleeding out all over some Unspeakable who sounds absolutely livid as he growls threateningly about procedure violations and the brash, idiotic behaviors of hotheaded Aurors. It's all right and good because her coworkers are generally so incompetent that they undoubtedly deserve the verbal abuse, except Rey is pretty sure she's going to die if she doesn't make it to St. Mungo's in the very near future. She lifts a shaking, blood-spattered hand to tug on the Unspeakable's robe, and his dark, infuriated eyes lock with hers as she wheezes out, “Hospital, please?”

His eyebrows shoot up into the dark curls of his hair as though he'd completely forgotten about the Slicing Curse that had hit her straight in the abdomen, and then they're Apparating so quickly that the sensation has Rey swallowing the bile rising in her throat.

“Auror Kenobi requires a blood replenishment potion,” the wizard says promptly upon their arrival at St. Mungo's, and the white walls of the facility are so familiar at this point that she's subconsciously relaxing into the security of the hospital. It's only after the mediwitches are scrambling about to prepare a bed for her that Rey realizes the Unspeakable is carrying her in his arms in the morbid mimicry of a bridal carry.

But then he's laying her gently on the sterile sheets of a medical cot, and in his deep voice he's explaining to a short-haired Healer that she was hit by the Secare Curse in pursual of a Dark wizard. They're quickly moved into a private room, and the male Healer carefully cuts away her blood-soaked, ruined Auror robes. The cool lip of a glass flask presses against her lips, and she screws her eyes shut as she swallows down the thick, unpleasant potion.

Rey feels faint from the blood loss, and all she can focus on is his tense frown and displeased features. He moves a hand to comb through his dark hair, but her blood must have completely soaked through his clothing and stained his skin, because the action smears a line of red across his forehead.

“Ah,” she manages, and both the Healer and the Unspeakable look at her. “You’ve got… blood on you.” Speaking is hard, forcing her to take rasping breaths that exacerbate the gaping wound in her stomach, and she unsteadily rubs a hand at her forehead in addition to her words.

With a quick movement, he's wiping her blood off of his skin with the fabric of his robe. The Unspeakable stares at her for a moment, and she wants to thank him for, well, saving her life, but as she opens her mouth to do so the only noise that comes out is a groan of pain as the Healer waves his wand and her skin begins to knit itself together again.

He's gone when she finally manages to unclench her jaw and open her eyes. The Healer looks amused, and says softly, “Bloody Unspeakables, yeah?”

If he's joking, then she must not be in imminent danger of losing her life any longer. “Rude lot,” she agrees, lips turning up in a smile. Bloody hell, she hadn't even caught his name. The whole _shrouded in mystery_ aspect of their job really does seem a touch overdramatic.

The Healer casts a sharp _Episkey_ to scrub her abdomen clean of drying blood, and Rey can feel an odd stirring in her stomach as the blood replenishment potion begins to take effect.

“You're going to be alright,” he tells her. “We'll give it a day's rest to ensure a safe recovery, and you'll be back to work within the week.”

The rapidness with which magic aids the healing body never ceases to amaze Rey. Growing up on the streets of London (as a Muggle, which she hadn't even learned about until her first year at Hogwarts) had taught her exactly how long it could take for her body to naturally recover from a broken arm or fist-sized bruises.

She much prefers the wizarding world.

When the Healer leaves the room, she takes out her wand and thinks of that first full, warm meal settling into her belly under the roof of the Kenobi residence. It fills her with happiness, as the memory always does, and Rey conjures her Patronus. The small, silvery kestral that appears beats its wings quickly within the room, and she can’t help the satisfactory smile that unfurls whenever she lays eyes upon her charm.

“Find Finn and tell him, ‘I'm at St. Mungo’s and alright,’” she tells it, and the small falcon trills before passing through the wall in a streak of silver.

Satisfied that her Patronus will find her partner, she settles into the bed gingerly, afraid of pulling the newly-healed flesh of her stomach. This is the worst part of being admitted to St. Mungo’s on short notice - there isn’t too much to do. She could Summon a book to read, but honestly it’s getting harder and harder to keep her eyes open.

The thought that someone may have slipped her a sleep draught along with the other potion crosses her mind, but she shakes it off quickly. The only one who could’ve done such a thing would have been the Unspeakable, and from his tirade on following proper policy, she doubts he would have administered her something without her knowledge.

In the safety of her hospital room, Rey lets the drowsiness overtake her.

 

-

 

“The maniac Apparated into the middle of a battlefield,” Finn tells her a few days later. They’re within the comfort of their shared office, and Rey has just finished penning their combat report.

“Did you find out why?” she asks. Not that she’s complaining, considering he was the one to catch her as she fell from the curse’s impact and into his arms, but she does have an honest curiosity. She wasn’t exactly coherent upon his arrival.

“Conflict of interest is what I’m hearing,” he continues. “The Department of Mysteries had an ongoing investigation on the same house, and naturally nobody told the Aurors about the active Cursed objects inside of it until we were already raiding.”

That makes her frown. The raid had been relatively successful - three Dark wizards captured, with only the one slinging curses at her escaping - and the lingering potential of danger weighs heavily on her mind. Maybe that Unspeakable’s furious ranting about brash Aurors wasn’t so off the mark.

“Could have gone a lot worse, then.”

“Yeah.”

They sit in silence for a bit, each lost in their thoughts. It’s times like these where the reality of their job hits them - what they do is risky, deadly on the best of days, and even a single misstep into a cursed artifact could’ve spelled the end for one of their co-Aurors.

She’s made a full recovery, ready for active duty again, and such a thing calls for celebration, though. Dwelling on should-haves and could-haves never did anyone much good. “Finn,” Rey says to catch his attention.

“Hm?”

“Do you and Poe want to head to Hogsmeade tonight? I could use a good drink after all this.”

Rowena bless her best friend, because he flashes a grin and says, “The Three Broomsticks it is!”

 

-

 

Poe and Finn were the worst-kept secret of Hogwarts, once upon a time. Rey had actually stumbled across them on accident during her fourth year in the middle of studiously writing a Charms essay, and it was not an easily forgotten memory.

The wizarding world was an endless wonder to Rey, and even her Housemates commented frequently on her consumption of education and magical knowledge. It was harder to explain the Muggle world to a group of students who had only ever known magic, and Rey found it difficult to connect with the others.

Ravenclaws were famous for their endless pursuit of knowledge, but Rey had never _really_ required a visual description of a blowjob to comprehend the concept. Finn and Poe had never intended to get caught on the third floor of the library behind a stack of dusty bookshelves, though, so she couldn’t fault them _too_ greatly.

Apparently Poe’s parents were fairly conservative, and so while Rey and other helpless victims stumbled across their illicit affair, they could never truly bring their relationship into the public until after their schooling.

Finn was Rey’s age, had been on the same train as Rey when she’d arrived to Hogwarts, and her only regret was not finding and befriending him sooner. They clicked immediately (after the few days it took for Finn’s face to stop flushing every time he laid eyes on her) and quickly became thick as thieves.

Poe was a different story, all fifth year bravado, and Rey found herself intimidated by him at first. Turned out that Poe was something of the wonder boy of Gryffindor, with his prodigal flying skills, and he was one of the youngest Captains in decades. Underneath, though, he was really just a lovestruck teenager, and Rey felt privileged to see him away from the hordes of fangirls (and boys) that flocked naturally to his boyish charms.

Rey found herself in the Gryffindor common room more often than not, and in Finn and Poe she found through experience just how loyal their House could be. They became an inseparable trio, and when Rey began rooting for Gryffindor in their Quidditch games, she learned fairly early on to keep is a secret from the rest of the Ravenclaws.

When he’d graduated, though, everyone was surprised that he didn’t accept any offers to play Quidditch professionally. He could’ve been on the best team in the world, but his NEWTs were high enough, and whenever anyone asked why he had chosen the path of a Healer, he’d flash a grin and say, “You can’t make as much of a difference flying around on a broomstick as you can at St. Mungo’s, can you?”

And when Rey and Finn had graduated but a few years later, joining the Aurors seemed the only logical course of action.

 

-

 

Kylo Ren truly does not make enough Galleons to compensate for the ridiculous tasks that the Department of Mysteries expects him to perform. The secrecy of his career apparently also means that his day to day duties range from mundane to death-defying, and there is often little warning about which it will be on any given day.

Currently, he is glaring at the fool who has accidentally spilled a frothy green potion over the entire length of his robes. The concoction is quickly eating through the thick material of his clothing, and Kylo can feel the headache coming on already.

“ _What_ was that?” he demands of the shaking Ministry worker in front of him. _Honestly_ , he’s not even on duty, and he had just been strolling across the main hall of the Ministry of Magic to pop in and say hello to the Minister when this idiot had bumped into him.

Minister Organa will just have to wait. This is apparently going to require a trip to St. Mungo’s, because the stuttered, choked-out response of the incompetent idiot he’s dragging along by the hood of his robe indicates that the liquid currently destroying his wardrobe is a high-grade cleaning potion.

They Floo to the third floor of St. Mungo’s, and his demand for an available Healer is overshadowed by the loud, overflowing giggles of the Auror from the disgustingly unprofessional mishap in Northampton.

He’s struck by the sound of her laughter. It’s clear after the briefest of moments that her laughs are uncontrollable, likely at the hand of some kind of pranking hex or potion, and even though he can hear the tense note in her ridiculous cackling, it still sends a bizarre, unidentifiable sensation straight through his chest.

“Someone spiked her drink,” the Healer who approaches him says with a quick jerk of her chin towards the giggling witch. “Had a bad reaction with her Firewhiskey and hasn’t stopped for hours. Will probably require a few purging potions.”

 _Whatever happened to patient confidentiality?_ he muses, but then the Healer is directing him toward a room and Vanishing his destroyed clothing.

He’s about to voice a protest when he realizes that the potion had eaten clean through his robes and exposed his skin, so he allows the spell. Being an Unspeakable involves much more intimate invasions of privacy than being nearly-naked in front of a professional Healer, though, and he has no qualms about it.

The Healer Vanishes the remaining residue of the potion that’s clinging to him, but not before angry red burns have formed on his pale skin. The pain is less irritating than the fact that he has to be here at all, and Kylo seethes in quiet anger through the quiet healing spells.

It’s more calming to think of Auror Kenobi, whose laughter has apparently petered out as the wing has gone blessedly silent. When her face is not marred by the tension of pain and distress, she cuts an attractive figure, and it’s honestly too much of a hassle to get involved with anyone due to his taxing career or he might have considered taking her home for a night.

Kylo can vaguely hear his assigned Healer prescribing him a minor burn ointment as his mind is consumed by the high, clear notes of the witch’s laughter and the flash of her grin.

 

-

 

Rey just _knows_ she’s going to get written up for this one. It’s possible that breaking both arms of a bloody werewolf in order to prevent Finn from getting bitten or scratched could be viewed as inhumane treatment, but she’s willing to testify against even the Wizengamot about necessary force if need be.

The criminal is whinging about her hostile treatment as she prods him in the back with her wand. When they step into the main lobby of St. Mungo’s, Rey calls out loudly to the room’s recipients, “Stand back, please, criminal being escorted into the Bone Ward.”

His injured arms are safely secured behind his back with a binding spell, and his wand is in her pocket, but she’s not taking any risks. If he tries to take a hostage and threaten to turn _them,_ then Rey will be risking the loss of her job rather than a simple write-up.

“‘Ey, quit pokin’ me! That’s abuse!” he protests, and she retaliates by shoving her wand further into his bony back.

“Stop _complaining,_ ” she grunts. “You can’t lunge at my bloody _partner_ and expect me to treat you civilly.” Really, the nerve of this man. She’s all for equal rights for werewolves and vampires in society when they’re not being savage imbeciles, but the moment they try to weaponize their abilities, all bets are off.

This man resolutely does _not_ have her sympathy, and she relishes the horrified face he makes when a Healer appears, sighs, and uses the most painful of all Bone-Repair spells to fix his shattered humerus bones.

Naturally, this leads to an entirely new round of wailing, and Rey quickly tunes him out.

This wing of the hospital is typically one of the busiest, what with the high frequency of Quidditch players and otherwise-irresponsible young witches and wizards, and she casts a quick glance around to assess the area.

It’s an Auror technique she’s rather fond of: the constant vigilance toward one’s surroundings is necessary in her arsenal, and in this instance it bears the fruit of her seeing one particular Unspeakable engaged in a heated argument with a Healer.

This in and of itself is not particularly out of the norm - hell, Rey argues with just about anything that moves - but the tall man currently bickering with the Healer who’s about half his size is almost comical. What isn’t so comical, though, is the arm he’s cradling against his chest. It’s heavily burnt, the skin charred, and judging from the bizarre grip he has on it with his good hand, all of the bones of his lower arm have been removed.

“They cannot heal the burn damage until the bones regrow,” he’s hissing at the tiny woman. “So _please - “_ and even the word sounds condescending “ - retrieve a bottle of Skele-gro and let me be on my way.”

“Sir,” the Healer responds firmly with the tried patience of someone who has absolutely put up with disagreeable patients, “We must admit you a room before we can administer any potions.”

“And _that_ is a waste of time when I know exactly what needs to be done and you’re obstructing this entire process.” There is such antagonism in his voice that Rey’s hackles are instinctively rising. She’s been hunting down Dark wizards for years, and he sounds just on the cusp of barking out some kind of curse, but she _knows_ he works for the Ministry and couldn’t possibly be contemplating cursing the woman attempting to deliver him medical aid.

Maybe he’s just an awful patient.

“ _Petrificus Totalis!”_ the Healer calls out after another venomous exchange of words, and even as his body slams against the floor in absolute rigidity, his face is twisted into an uncomely snarl of indignation.

Okay, he’s definitely an awful patient.

His eyes flicker around the room, the only rebellion of motion he can muster against the spell, and their eyes catch just once before the Healer next to her says, “Alright, Auror Kenobi, your dashing patient is ready to be shipped off to Azkaban.”

By now, the werewolf is howling in indignation (and it’s awful of her, but Rey snorts at her own pun) at the mention of prison.

“Many thanks,” she says to the Healer, and Apparates them out.

 

-

 

She’d almost beaten her record of avoiding hospital admittance for three months when a former Death Eater Crucio’d her so hard she almost bit her own tongue in half.

The hospital visit is mostly a psychological one to ensure she hasn’t lost her wits in the fit of torture, and Rey’s been talking to the Mind-Healer for what feels like forever.

“I promise I’m fine, Healer Kanata,” she insists. “No lasting damage.”

“The Cruciatus Curse is not to be taken lightly,” the ancient witch in front of her says, and Rey resists the urge to roll her eyes. The woman is just doing her job, but the constant poking and prodding at her mind has her feeling short-tempered.

“And the Dark wizard who cast it will be imprisoned accordingly.” More than anything, she just wants to curl up in her bed and sleep for the next fifteen hours.

“After-care is a significant part of recovery.” The Healer moves and withdraws a vial from within her robe pockets. “This is a calming draught, I recommend that you take it before sleeping tonight. It will soothe the harshness of your dreams.”  

“Of course.”

 

-

 

Post-investigation interrogations are absolutely the worst part of being an Unspeakable. To ensure complete honesty in debriefs, all employees are sworn to oath by Veritaserum, and he’s taken the potion so many times that the lightheadedness he feels after imbibing hardly affects him.

His debriefing goes quickly - _Yes, Unspeakable Snoke, the results regarding Unforgivables cast on isolated brains to monitor activity were very revealing -_ and he’s out of the tightly-warded room within the hour. There are many more experiments still to be run, but the Ministry has strict rules on consecutive days of work.

Post-investigation psych evaluations are a close runner up to the Veritaserum sessions, though. Kylo typically has a private Healer perform the evaluations within the safety of his own home, but Mind Healer Dameron had owled him earlier today about picking up a late shift at St. Mungo’s, requesting that they meet at the hospital for the mandatory session.

It’s a pain, but Kylo would rather get it over with and enjoy the next few days off then be interrupted with such a mundane check-up, so he agrees and Floos to the hospital after he’s done with Snoke.

Casting Unforgiveables for a few days _has_ been exhausting, and on top of the truth serum flowing through his veins, he should’ve known going out in public was a horrid idea.

Mind Healer Dameron greets him warmly when he steps out of the Floo, and maybe he’s also on Veritaserum, because he looks at him after a moment and says, “You look awful.”

“Thanks,” Kylo responds shortly. “I’d like this to go quickly.” They aren’t friends, exactly, considering that Kylo spends a decent amount of his Galleons on employing the Mind Healer privately, but the man knows much about his profession and identity in a way that no one else ever will. It lends itself to a sort of intimacy that has Kylo’s skin crawling when he considers it too deeply.

“Of course,” Dameron replies, and then he leads them into a top security, highly warded room. “Apologies for making you come on in here, but I couldn’t abandon the shift.”

“It’s irritating,” he says, and hell, he had meant to say, _Understandable._

Dameron smirks at his words, which is at least better than him getting offended. He gestures for the Unspeakable to sit down on the hospital bed, and then moves to be seated next to him.

Kylo closes his eyes in an attempt to relax, and under Veritaserum it is disturbingly easy to drop his mental walls of Occlumency enough for the Mind Healer to investigate his mind. He pointedly ignores what that says about his subconscious.

The quiet murmur of, “ _Legilimens,”_ is familiar, and Kylo allows Dameron’s presence into his thoughts. The moment blurs after that, and after an unclear period of time the Mind Healer is gently shaking his shoulder.

It’s harder than it should be to open his eyes again, but Kylo returns to consciousness quickly enough. His typically battle-ready instincts are dulled, which is a disappointment, and he can’t help the frown that tugs at his mouth.

Dameron debriefs him quickly, telling him that his mind seems stable enough and the only concern is the weary exhaustion of overwork. The news is welcome, and Kylo offers him a few words of gratitude as they wrap up.

As he’s leaving, a nearby Healer leaves a room and it catches his eye. Inside, the Auror he’s quickly becoming familiar with is sitting on the bed, legs dangling as she eyes a vial caught between her fingers.

“Oh, you know Rey?” Dameron asks as he steps outside of their room and follows Kylo’s trail of sight.

“Rey?” In his exhausted state, the name sounds unfamiliar, and it takes him an embarrassingly long amount of time to associate it with the brunette across the way.

“Auror Kenobi,” the Healer says. “We’ve been friends since Hogwarts, wouldn’t have thought you two crossed paths often.”

He wants to say, _We don’t, I don’t know her at all,_ but what comes out instead is, “She’s beautiful. I’ve never spoken to her before.”

Dameron gives him a _look_ that is equal parts inquisitive and dangerous, and the scheming causes a shiver of unease to slide down his spine. Kylo takes advantage of the Healer’s distracted mind to quickly leave. But as he’s passing by the room the Auror is in, he can’t help but look in, and he’s unsure if it is a curse or a blessing that she looks up at that exact moment.

“Hello,” she says as his footsteps falter, and he pauses in the doorway. He takes in the dried blood at the corner of her lip and the pale complexion of her face as she lifts a hand and wiggles her fingers at him in a distinctly Muggle gesture.

“You look wretched,” is the first thing that comes out of his mouth, and a heartbeat later he remembers the damned truth serum circulating throughout his body.

Kylo expects her to scowl and insult him. Expects her to be affronted at his words and retaliate with the feistiness he knows she is capable of. It comes as a complete surprise when she laughs sharply and replies, “You’re one to talk, Unspeakable.”

“Kylo Ren,” he says immediately, because addressing him by his position suddenly seems too impersonal and too unacceptable, and well, it _isn’t_ a lie.

“Apologies. You look wretched yourself, Unspeakable Ren.”

Still with the formalities, but at least there is a sense of familiarity to her words, now, in addition to the upward quirk of her lips.

“Work has been exhausting.” He’s thankful that the preparatory Unspeakable trials involved intensive interrogation under Veritaserum to not reveal details of his job duties, because otherwise he might be spilling out words regarding exactly _what_ has him so exhausted.

“Right there with you,” Auror Kenobi - _Rey -_ says, and she pockets the vial she’s holding before hopping off the bed. “Getting Crucio’d was certainly not how I expected to spend the day.”

The horror of having to _cast_ the Cruciatus rises within him, and the memory of having the curse turned on him rises unbidden to the forefront of his mind. His nerve endings twinge uncomfortably in sympathy. “I’m sorry,” he says earnestly, and even the apology is too candid for his typical demeanor.

At least she does not know that. Instead, she waves off his apology as she steps past him, and the doorway is thin enough that he can feel the brush of her body against his and the faintly herbal scent of her as she slips outside of the room.

“Ah,” he says softly, and he can feel the vestiges of the Veritaserum filtering through him because he manages to clamp down on the urge to say something stupid about how he’d like to make her feel better.

“Hm?” the Auror hums questioningly.

“Nothing,” he says, and if the word is a bit too biting as it replaces the, _Let me hug you, I think we both need it,_ then she does not mention it.

She does looks at him oddly, though. “It was nice meeting you, Ren,” she says as they make their way to the hospital’s Floo Network.

Kylo is very thankful that she’s shouting, “15 Jakku Avenue,” too loudly into the fire to hear his soft, “Please, call me Kylo.”

 

-

 

Having to secretly Apparate into your own parents’ home seems almost wrong, but at least his magic is part of the wards and his mother and father are fairly used to it by now.

Kylo is greeted by the overlarge presence of the family dog when he arrives, and he Summons the dragon bone he had purchased in Diagon Alley a week prior. Chewbacca looks ravenous as he grabs the floating bone out of the air, and he spares the beast a genuine smile of amusement.

Leia Organa is a deceivingly tiny woman, but Kylo knows that she is entirely deserving of the Minister of Magic title. She’s an incredible figure, blood-related to former Minister Amidala, and under her rule the magical side of England remains peaceful. She’s also his mother, which is significantly less-known information, and he plans to keep it that way.

“Kylo!” his mother says, and even years later he can still see the miniscule tightening of her mouth when his false name slips past her lips. “You beat your father home, he should return any minute now.”

“Mother,” he greets in return, capturing her in a tight hug. It is only under the protection of this house that he allows himself such outright affection - no one can see them, here, and therefore it is acceptable.

“Come into the kitchen, you can try the roast I just finished. Would you like something to drink? Some Butterbeer?”

“I’m an adult,” Kylo says with faux exasperation, as though they do not rehash this every time he comes over. “No need to fuss over me. …Firewhiskey does sound great, though.”

With a wave of her hand and a quiet spell, his mother wandlessly Summons a goblet filled with alcohol. It’s a gaudy show of power, and he tells her so, but all she does is snort and respond, “No such thing as abuse of power when you run the country.”

He rolls his eyes, but the _crack!_ of his father’s Apparation into the living room interrupts his snappy comeback.

Their dinners are weekly, but the interactions don’t seem to satisfy him as much as they used to. No one must know of his connection to the Minister - he refuses to become a potential weapon against Leia Organa - and yet it is only in the quietest of moments does his self-isolation seem a mistake.

 

-

 

Kylo’s tending to a former Unspeakable in the Janus Thickey Ward when the commotion starts up. _Tending to_ is a rather diplomatic way to speak of what he’s really doing, but it’s the nature of the job. In an attempt to glean information from Unspeakable Callum Reed, one of the few dedicated to studying the Love Chamber, a half crazed Potions Master had botched the Imperius Spell on him a few years back.

What was left of Callum Reed in the aftermath was a man wrought with an obsession for love and the inability to retain any information relating to it.

Kylo’s duty is to ensure that it stays that way. It’s a fairly easy task, considering that Callum is generally a sobbing mess as he flips through trashy romantic novels, but in the event of a recovered memory (or worst, the leak of legitimate confidential information) he has been given the responsibility of checking up on the insane man regularly.

Speaking with Callum always fills him with uneasiness. Obsession for such a pointless emotion is painful to watch, and Kylo takes advantage of the building ruckus down the hall to leave Callum and investigate. He slips out of Callum’s permanent room and down the hallway, where a harried group of witches and wizards greets his gaze.

It sends an uncomfortable jolt through him to see Rey in the midst of them. Her face is bloody and it looks like her nose is broken, but those details seem meaningless once he notices that she’s crying.

Kylo’s lurching forward, closer to her, before his mind catches up with his body’s actions. Unspeakables are trained better than to respond to their base instincts, and he braces himself against the nearby wall to better observe the chaos surrounding him.

There are four Aurors crowding around the Healers and mediwitches, Rey among them, and it’s utter bedlam. The situation must be dire, because even the Healers are disheveled and harried as they attempt to rein in the situation.

“Stand back, please - ”

“You have to help him. Hhe - ”

“The damage is - ”

“Please, he needs a sleeping draught - “

Not a single witch or wizard appears to have a semblance of control, and the panic rises high enough that even Kylo feels as though he should intervene. Just before he does, an older Healer steps forward. The grey-haired man is impressive, quieting the ruckus with a single _Silencio,_ and the muted crowd turns to stare at him.

A young male Auror stands in their midst, and although he appears to be conscious, from this angle Kylo can see the severe damage to his skull. It’s a wonder that he’s even managing to keep himself upright with the flow of blood and exposure of his cerebellum.

Magic is powerful, but not always a cure-all. He’s dressed in Auror robes, and the coworkers around him seem to be aware that this will more than likely end in tragedy.

Kylo Disapparates before Rey or the others can realize he’s there. Nobody wants to be seen in such a moment of weakness, and he respects that.

 

-

   

“I’m beginning to feel concerned at how often you end up here,” Finn says as he gingerly holds her detached foot in one hand and his wand in the other.

“You’ve caught me,” Rey drawls as his levitation spell drops her gently onto the hospital bed. “I intentionally shoved my foot in a chimaera’s mouth just to end up at St. Mungos.”

“Well, you _did_ shove your foot into the chimaera’s mouth, so consider me a skeptic.”

“It was going to eat that little girl! It’s our job, I wasn’t about to let a magical beast kill a defenseless Muggle!”

“Yeah, yeah,” her partner says, and he has the gall to wave her off with her _own foot._

The Healer that walks in is definitely one that Rey recognizes from her previous trips, but she isn’t going to let Finn know that. He looks between them and gives a defeated sigh before re-attaching her foot, and she offers him genuine gratitude as he stares flatly at her.

She rolls her ankle to ensure the re-attachment was a success, and hops off the bed. “You can bill the Auror Department!” she chirps as her and Finn walk out, and in her distraction she runs directly into someone.

"Shit, sorry,” she says into the broad chest that she bumped into, and it’s only slightly horrifying that the inhale of her apology reveals that whoever she’s currently fondling smells quite good.

When she pulls away from the collision, Kylo Ren looks down at her, and Rey feels her cheeks flushing. His chest had felt muscled as her face ran into it, and she can’t quite control the blush. He’s silent, though, just staring down at her, and she waves her hands frantically as though they will help her come up with a topic of conversation.

The whole situation is awkward, and she is quite literally saved by Head Auror Skywalker’s Patronus as it soars into St. Mungo’s. The sleek leopard growls out in Luke’s rough voice for their return to the office, and Finn is badgering her about having to quickly follow up.

She offers him an apologetic goodbye wave just before they Apparate, but apparently everyone is giving her unimpressed stares today.

 

-

 

His last experiment had gone perfectly, which means that there is absolutely no logical reason as to why his blood is turning to poison in his veins.

Kylo isn’t sure of the exact length of time that has passed since his collapse in the Department of Mysteries, but as he gazes around the sterile environment of a hospital, he assumes it’s been at least a few hours. Down the length of his pale arms, his veins run black, and it feels like Fiendfyre is blazing a trail down every fiber of his being.

A quick, agonizing conversation with his caretakers informs him that the Healers have never seen such a thing before, and the Cursebreakers are at a loss. The best they can do is prolong the curse’s decay while they scramble to find a cure, and Kylo grimaces as it registers what they really mean: _We can extend your suffering until you’re too far gone to recover._

His parents are much too important to come into direct contact with him lest he be contagious, and he can see their concerned faces through the protective glass of his heavily warded hospital room.

It’s infuriating to die in such a pathetic manner.

 

-

 

The absence of the tall, brooding Unspeakable weighs more heavily on Rey’s mind than it should. They’re not friends by any stretch of the imagination, but their frequent brushes with one another at St. Mungo’s had turned into a sort of routine, and his absence is noticeable.

They’re little more than strangers, in all honesty, but there’s something compelling about him that she can’t seem to ignore. Little is known about the Unspeakables, even to Ministry workers, but Rey knows enough about their ridiculously ambitious and relentless field of study to have an idea of what his personality is like.

And there’s something that sits uncomfortably in the pit of her stomach when she thinks of how he’s vanished in the past few months. It’s her one downfall, getting too attached to people who leave her behind, and the sickeningly familiar feeling of abandonment niggles at the back of her mind.

It’s ridiculous to be thinking of an almost-stranger like this, she knows, but she can’t seem to _stop._

For what may be the only time in her entire career, she’s finished up her mandatory paperwork before the sun has fully set, and she’s just stepping outside of the Auror Headquarters when she’s intercepted by the object of her thoughts. Immediately, she feels relief that he’s at least alright. Kylo Ren has a determined glint to his eye, and for a moment, she thinks he’s about to storm into her department. He stops in front of her, though, and Rey observes him for a moment.

He looks awful, worse than he did when they first spoke. Then, he had seemed exhausted and overworked, but now he just looks… ill. Wobbly on his feet, like a fresh sailor just gaining his sea legs.

She has more tact than to point it out to him, though. “Hey there, long time no see.”

He seems unfamiliar with the Muggle colloquialism, and ignores it.“Rey Kenobi,” he says.

It is a wonder how he’s managed to get this far in life if this is the highest standard of conversation he’s capable of. “That’s me.”

“It has come to my attention,” the Unspeakable says as he looks down at her, “that our professions are very high risk.”

This is common knowledge, and a very odd way to begin a conversation. “You’re not wrong,” she says slowly, as though speaking to a child.

“I spent the last two months under quarantine and I’ve just been discharged, and I believe that we must go on a date before one of us dies or I otherwise go insane.” It’s more than she has ever heard him speak in one breath before, and the effort shows very clearly as he inhales raggedly to catch his breath.

Rey’s about to respond in the affirmative - he’s attractive, and he’s held her interest for longer than most - but before she can get a word in, he sways a bit, eyes rolling up into his head, and she just barely catches him before he collapses to the floor.

There’s something to be said about stubborn persistence here, she just knows it. She Apparates them promptly to St. Mungo’s.


End file.
